


They Sit Among the Rocks, Under the Silvery Pines

by Anonymous



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Multi, Rape, Rating: NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-30 21:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15105542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Thing was, Pen hated it.He hated the look in their eyes when they returned to the household, the way they smiled, as if they had had some satisfaction that he would never understand.Men thought they tamed women, but Pen could tell; the wildness lay just underneath their skin.





	They Sit Among the Rocks, Under the Silvery Pines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Verabird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verabird/gifts).



> My apologies for any great mistakes you might soon encounter; my life kind of imploded while I was writing this and I'm finding myself very scattered. Please bear with me, I'll fix it all after reveal.

The Alabaster City - that's what it was called. White stone as far as the eye could see, shining even in the soft morning light of summer, nearly translucent in winter. The Temple of Demeter and the Temple of Apollo towered above the city, smaller temples scattered throughout. Thebes was a beautiful city, a proud city, and Pen was almost proud to call it his ancestral home.

"Dee, where shall we go first?" Asked Julia, scrolling through her handheld. "We can climb all the way to the top of the Giant of the Causeway - that's that big lighthouse over there. They say it's the largest in the world."

"Whatever."

Pen grimaced. Delia might be on the eve of her majority, but that didn't mean she could speak to her mother in that tone of voice. Before he could do more than open his mouth, Julia touched his forearm and shook her head. Maybe that was fine with her, but it wasn't with him. "Respect the city of your ancestors!" he barked.

He felt a pang of guilt, then a strong streak of anger as Julia sat back further in her seat, her lips pursed. He hated when she did that, undermining his authority without saying a word. What was worse - Delia picked up on it, and then it was as if the two of them lobbied together against him, female solidarity of some sort that he didn't understand. Aunt Autinoe had been right all those years ago at the wedding party. Half in her cups and speaking to him as if he were a child, she had said, _"She may not be from Boeotia, but the blood of ancient ones runs through her veins. You'll come to regret this some day the Oracle told me so."_

Of course, he had ignored her, all men of any intelligence did. She was nothing but a back country rube as far as he was concerned. Besides, he had lived his entire life off-world, he had scads more experience than she could ever even imagine. 

Honestly.

The atmosphere was suspiciously quiet; he had been warned time and again against flying into Thebes even though he was a skilled pilot. Just because he wasn't familiar with the local airspace, that didn't mean he couldn't land his own bloody ship. He was instrument rated, for the gods' sakes, had even flown to Carthage when everyone said it couldn't be done. Thebes was simple by comparison.

Aunt Ino's estate lay north and west of Thebes, and from what Pen recalled, she grew grapes for wine and cultivated all manner of vegetables and fruit. She had once sent him a kilo of firm white goat cheese along with a case of black red wine and baskets of persimmons and pomegranates bursting with sweet-tart juice, melt-in-your-mouth figs and firm-fleshed apricots that took days to ripen but once they did, oh, the flavor was divine.

After landing on the pad, Pen led the family up to the house. The air was fragrant with pine and other, undefineable scents. Smelled like a new planet, which Pen allowed himself to enjoy. Certainly better than Alexandria City, which constantly had warnings about air quality. Little wonder, with exhaust fumes and cooking smells, the odors of broken sewers mixing with the high scents of perfumed pomanders of passersby. Yes, he was going to going to take advantage and have a good wander every day. just the very idea of it made him feel incredibly healthy.

Aunt Ino greeted them at the door, a tall and slim well-tanned woman with close cropped hair silvered with age, and a great many silver bangles about her wrists. 

"Pen!" she cried, throwing the front door wide and wrapping one arm around his neck. "Pentheus, oh, let me look at you!"

He grudgingly stood before her, trying not to feel too proud of the physique he had worked so hard to attain. His father's last words to him had been straightforward - Look the part, or else fall at the first hurdle. That had been years ago, and look what he had achieved now! A business empire spanning Athens to Crete, Syracuse to Byzantium. In short, he had surpassed his own father's goals. And yes, looking the part had helped immensely.

"Julia, how wonderful to see you again."

Julia dutifully accepted the hug, one of those arm to arm, cheek to cheek hugs that faked being personal. Pen detested them with every fiber of his being, and it was only because Aunt Ino was older than him that he put up with it.

"Welcome, welcome. I hope your trip wasn't too difficult," said Ino, leading the way into a shadowed and cool foyer. "The weather the last few days has been atrocious."

"We're fine," said Julia. "Pen's a good pilot."

"He must be. Now, come and let me give you well come."

They broke bread dipped in salt, bitter olives sprinkled with herbs, munched on slim, finger-wide rolls of crispy pastry filled with sweet almond paste and cinnamon. After, Ino showed them their rooms so they could freshen up, then gave them the grand tour. Aunt Ino's house was very, very traditional; wide and long with an inner courtyard, mosaics on the floor and walls painted in calming earth tones, high ceilings and windows that let in just enough light without spreading the heat of summer.

Though it was only the first day of their visit, Pen took the opportunity to settle in Ino's office and check his messages. CadmusIndustries had risen in social estimation in the last week, higher than he had expected. Probably because he had given the same time off to his employees that he himself was taking. Done on the advice of someone, he couldn't remember who. 

The work took him most of the day, and by the time he was done, it was time for dinner. 

The meal was delicious, showing off the variety of produce from the estate. 

"I wish I could get this kind of produce in Athens," said Julia, spearing a yellow grape tomato on her fork. A drop of dressing splashed onto the plate as she gestured with the fork. "Don't get me wrong, we have the best of the best, but it's nowhere near as good as this."

Ino smiled and nodded. "There really isn't anything as good as picked on the same day."

Pen took a sip of wine - it was a somewhat sweet white, not his favorite, but refreshing enough. It paired well with the cheese pie and the wilted spinach with pine nuts. Crossing his legs, he leaned against the back of his chair and drifted on the tide of conversation. He was going to have to do something about Eryx. The man was pathetic, unable to do even the most menial of tasks. Why Cadmus had kept him on was beyond Pen. Eryx was barely able to use modern communication systems, in fact all he seemed to do was follow Cadmus around, and now that Cadmus was no longer there, he followed Pen around. But people liked him, for reasons Pen didn't understand. Women fawned over him, men respected him - why? He wasn't good looking. He was short, shorter than Pen by a good few centimeters, and his hair was thin. Wrinkles lines his face and he barely spoke above a whisper -

" - festival?"

Pen blinked and abruptly started paying attention. Both Julia and Delia were looking hopefully at Ino, whose gaze was rather shark-like in Pen's opinion.

"Of course," said Ino. Her smile widened. "Everyone is welcome at the Dionysia."

 

"No!" snapped Pen. He sat up straight and rapped his fingers on the table. "You can't go the Dionysia, I won't allow it."

Ino raised her eyebrows. "You won't allow it?"

"It's not for good women like them. Keep your filthy rituals off my family!"

"Oh for the good gods sakes," muttered Julia. "When are you going to get over this obsession with purity? it's been twenty years, enough's enough!"

"You don't know what goes on there!"

"Exactly!" Julia shouted back, slapping her hand on the table hard enough to rattle the dishes. "I've only heard tall tales and now I think I should find out for myself what the truth is!"

"I'm half Theban," added Delia. She crossed her arms. "And I deserve to know what my ancestors did during the high holidays. I want to be able to tell my children the truth, too."

Pen shook his head in astonishment. "You can't - you, you can't! You're don't have your majority yet!"

"She's over sixteen," said Ino, one corner of her mouth turned up sly. "Legally she's of age to make her own choices about the Dionysia."

Delia immediately brightened, while Julia looked as surprised as Pen felt. It was clear that the three women had made up their minds, no matter how much Pen disagreed with it. Well, he wasn't about to let them go into the wild without anyone to hold them back, that was for sure. 

 

2)

 

Ino's estate was large, far larger than Pen had ever realized. After their light repast, she had flown them north, towards distant mountains, eventually landing in a small field at the base of a low set of tree covered hills. From there she made them change into light and loose clothing that was somehow both warm and cool to the touch. He wasn't fond of dressing in white, it didn't contrast nicely with the pale undertone in his skin. The three women, on the other hand, looked fantastic, practically glowing as twilight began to fall.

Ino led them unerringly through the widely spaced trees, following no trail that Pen could see, yet it seemed to him that at one point they were in the wilderness, and then the next thing he knew, he was in a crowd of people, men and women wearing crowns of ivy and flowers, olive wreaths as if they were going to the Great Olympics. They sat on the boulders littering the area, surely proof of some sort of long distant geologic catastrophe, or upon blankets on the ground. There were torches flickering in the mild breeze, and here and there were bonfires, the danger of which made him incredibly tense. 

"You brought guests!" cried one of the women, a long haired blonde with ringlets a-bounce upon her fair white shoulders. Her eyes were black, and wide, and even though the only nearby light came from the torches, her skin was nearly translucent. She opened her mouth to speak and Pen wondered what it would be like to stick his cock in it.

A moment later he frowned; where on earth had that thought come from?

Ino bowed; Julia and Delia did the same to a lesser degree. Pen nodded: he didn't see a reason to be formal, he didn't even know her name.

"Dio, this is my niece Delia, her mother Julia, and her father, Pentheus," said Ino, gesturing to each of them in turn.

Dio grinned, her teeth gleaming in the soft light. "Welcome to the festival. We have wine and bread, fruit and meat. Come join us as we celebrate the ripening of the Earth!"

He couldn't help it, he snorted. What kind of old-fashioned claptrap was this? It was a new age, no one actually -

"You mock?" asked Dio, still smiling, but it seemed to Pen her face had frozen and her smile no longer reached her eyes. "You eat, do you not?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend," he said. He waved toward the sky. "We don't do this sort of thing where I'm from."

"Oh," she said, glancing at Ino. "I thought you were born here? And that you brought your wife and child to honor the ancestors and complete the cycle?"

Pen chuckled. "Well, Delia wanted to see rural Thebes, and Julia's never been in the country, so..." He shrugged.

"Pen - " said Julia quietly. Nervously, which was unlike her. She had been brought up cultured and city chic, two of the things that had made her so attractive to him.

"Oh, Julia, it's fine. I'm sure Dio understands where we're coming from."

Dio tilted her head the other way, her smile fixed. She eyed him from head to foot before clapping her hands. Out of nowhere two young women came running, each bearing a silver tray laden with tiny bowls and pitchers. Pen was impressed that they managed not to spill anything, for they weren't even wearing shoes. He made a mental note to offer them jobs as waitresses in one of his restaurants. Not only that, they were wearing one piece, belted white dresses knotted at the shoulders. They were older than Delia, thought not by much, and he felt himself fill a little. Poor timing on the part of his body.

"Drink," Dio commanded, pouring water into two cups, and wine into the other. She offered the water to Julia and Delia, the wine to Pen. At least she knew that much. Pen took a sip; the wine was full bodied and rich, a little sweet, but not too much so. Oddly enough, it reminded him of his childhood visits to the estate, of late nights and humid days, of hours spent in lazy sunshine, insects singing songs as he laid in the grass, chewing on a green stem and just existing in the world.

"Mm! Oh, this is delicious!" said Julia, clearly surprised. She turned towards Delia, eyebrows raised."Tastes like honey, but not as sweet, don't you think?" 

Delia seemed equally delighted, nodding back eagerly. "It's like summer in a glass!"

"Is it wine?" asked Delia. She drank the rest in one gulp, gripped her bowl tightly.

"Yes, and more," replied Dio. "The essence of the land, of it's ripeness.

"The essence of the ripeness of the land. We honor it when we drink," said Dio, pouring more into both Delia and Julia's bowls.

Pen wanted to taste it too, but she didn't offer him any. That was fine, let the ladies have their thing. Finishing off his own bowl, he poured himself another without waiting for permission. Obviously Dio favored the women, that was fine. She didn't know who he was or what power he yielded. And why should he care anyway? She was just a country bumpkin.

Fortified by this thought, Pen took a few steps away, looking around and seeing what was what. This time he noticed there were far more women than men, women of all ages. Funny, he'd always thought of the Dionysia as women's festivals where they held plays, tragedies and comedies and the like. A way to get away from men for a few days. Although now that he thought about it, there had always been a curious air in the household, an odd tension between his mother and his father around the time of the Dionysia. His father had not liked it, not one little bit, yet his mother was eager for it. When she returned she was so energetic, doing whatever she wanted without care for propriety. This all changed as soon as they returned home, where she became his real mother again, prim and proper and telling him not to kick his heels against the chair legs. 

Hm. 

Strange.

"Julia," he said, starting to turn around. "We're not sta - "

Dio was kissing Julia.

Dio was clasping Julia close, and kissing her.

Dio was kissing Pen's wife, one hand sliding from her ass down her thigh.

Delia watching, eyes wide and biting her lip.

Between one blink and the next, Pen realized he had moved from standing in shock to hurling Dio away from Julia.

"Just what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" he yelled, shaking Julia.

"Dad!" cried Delia, pulling on his arm. "Stop it, stop it!"

He pushed Delia to one side, aware of feeling surprised at his own action, while being so angry at the same time that he never considered stopping what he was doing.

"You're a _mother!_ " he screamed, knowing that wasn't the word he meant but it was the only one he could find in the heat of the moment.

"Enough!" 

The voice, low and clear, struck Pen senseless. He couldn't move, and then the women servers were next to him, one on each side. Something touched the back of his neck and his bones turned to water. He could no more have held on to Julia than he could keeping his feet, so he ended up sitting down hard and fast. Sandaled feet appeared in his vision, and though it took a moment to gather enough strength to look up, all he could do was stare dumbly at Dio's twin. A man, practically the spitting image of Dio, with the same golden curls and large black eyes, the same milky pale skin. The breadth of shoulder was completely different, however, and well muscled. Veins to make any man jealous stood out on the brother's forearms, which made Pen wonder what lay under the white chiton he wore. A _chiton_ , for God's sake. Nobody wore those outside of historical dramas.

The man crouched before Pen, tilted his head to one side and then the other, just as Dio had earlier. "You've violated my Dionysia. I wonder what we should do about that."

Pen shook his head. "I've violated nothing, that woman...that woman was violating my wife - my wife!"

"Ah, but this is the Dionysia, where women run free. Or did you forget?"

"Noooo," said Pen. "That's my wife. My Julia. I'm the only one she gets to touch."

"And you're the only one who gets to touch her, yes?"

He nodded. That's how it was supposed to be between men and women. That's what he had worked for since he was big enough to understand. Cadmus had impressed upon him from a very young age, that women should never be allowed such freedoms, less their baser natures lead to spawn without pedigree, and children not knowing who their fathers were.

The other man grinned. "You don't even know my name, do you?"

"Does it matter?" asked Pen. "You're obviously related to that woman."

"Yes...you might say we're intimately acquainted. You may call me Bacchus."

"Yeah, right," Pen said with a snort. "Do I look like I was born yesterday? You can keep your Romanizations to yourself. I'll just call you Dio since you look so much like your sister."

Bacchus - no, _Dio_ \- Dio's eyes gleamed. The stupid grin fell from his lips as he rose, still looking down upon Pen. He held his hand out, and to Pen's great surprise, Julia took one while Delia took they other. Both women were flushed, their cheeks rosy. Was he wrong, or did they have that same expression as the women from his childhood?

"For that, I'll set them free," said Dio. Without letting go of Julia's hand, he somehow curled her towards himself and kissed her hard. He then did the same with Delia, making a point of smiling lasciviously at Pen after.

Pen was horrified to see the front of Dio's chiton rising. He struggled to his knees, felt his trousers catch and rip on something. 

Dio laughed. "Poor boy, you really know nothing. Everyone here is going to fuck your women, and they're going to love it."

"No, no! Not my daughter, she's innocent! She's untouched!"

Even as Pen spoke men stepped out from behind him. They weren't the men he had seen before, no, these were altogether far hairier, with swarthy complexions and like Dio, well muscled. They wore nothing but sandals laced up their calves and short skirts split at the sides. One by one they looked at him as they passed, and it was clear from their expressions that they found him lacking.

The four men split into pairs, one pair taking Julia, the other Delia. They wasted no time feeling the women and murmuring their approval. With one man behind and the other in front, Pen's women closed their eyes and swayed to the attention of the hands wandering over their bellies and breast, between their legs. Pen hadn't thought anything of them wearing one piece dresses, dresses were feminine and suitable for those with the right figure. Now he saw the similarity to the chiton Sister Dio and every other female was wearing and cursed himself for being a fool. Ino had set him up - she had _set him up!_ Little wonder she was nowhere in sight...

Delia's dress was hiked halfway up her thighs and going higher; Pen shut his eyes tightly and turned away. Then someone moaned and he couldn't help it, he had to know who it was. 

Delia. 

His precious daughter.

Of marriageable age, now ruined by the touch of strangers, one of whom knelt before her, his face buried between her legs. She could barely stand, and had to be supported by the second man, who was licking her neck while staring at Pen. He paused lick his lips, showing a long and wicked tongue.

"Get away from her!" Pen shouted, only for the ground to come up and slap him in the face. Dazed, he lay there, just breathing. Laughter pealed above him, and jokes clearly at his expense in a language he didn't understand. There was a tug at the waistband of his trousers, someone pulling on the beltloop. He couldn't sum up the energy to do anything about it. Brother Dio spoke and the tugging ceased. Two seconds later Pen was bodily lifted up, leaving only his feet and hands on the ground. The dry rip of cloth surprised him, but not as much as the fresh air on his backside.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, thinking he should probably struggle to get away or something. Once the thought occurred to him he scrabbled to get away, breaking fingernails in the dirt. Someone barked a laugh as Pen was unexpectedly dropped. Before he had a chance to take in more than a breath, his legs were kicked apart and a heavy weight came onto his back, forcing a grunt out of him. An arm came around his throat as fingers probed between the cheeks of his ass.

Oh - oh this was bad. He'd been to the best boarding school on Athens, he knew what was going to happen next. 

It was just that he hadn't ever been on the receiving end.

Hot breath washed over his ear.

"Are you ready, Pentheus, son of Echion, son of Cadmus? I am Dionysus, God of Wine and Harvest, Lust and Fertility - "

For a second Pen couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dionysus? Dionysus was real? Fear lanced through him. Desperate to get out from underneath the God, Pen tried to buck him, to no avail. 

"Don't you wish you had had a sup of honey wine? Look - "

Pen's head was forced to the side, where he saw Julia preparing to sit in the lap of one of the men - who was not a man at all! Pen must have been drugged from the liquor he had drunk, how could he have thought a satyr was a man? Julia was looking down, concentrating fiercely as she settled. Her mouth was open and he knew exactly what that look was; he had seen it the first time they had slept together and she'd seen the size of his prick. And this was a satyr, not a man, a satyr rampant, which could only mean one thing: she would certainly never take her pleasure from his cock again, for no one could compete with a satyr for size or stamina.

"A little honey wine and you would be as eager as they are. Look - "

His head was forced to the other side, where Delia lay on her back, legs in the air as she clawed at the back of the satyr pumping away between her thighs. She was moaning, and to Pen's utter shame, he wondered what it would be like to be inside her.

"Now I'm going to take you, make you feel a God. Are you ready, Pentheus? Are you ready for the truth?"

No, no he wasn't. He was terrified, actually, but the God didn't care. 

Pen felt something warm and stick swipe the crack of his ass from his balls up, and then the blunt head of the God's cock began to force itself in. Pain lanced through Pen, leaving him sobbing at the additional burn. He choked upon inhaling a seed, and maybe coughing distracted him, for when he finally stopped, the God was fully seated within him. The pressure was immense. How could people want this? The boys at school who were forced had screamed and cried every time, to the point where he found he couldn't even enjoy himself, even when they were too drunk or drugged to resist.

Just as he was becoming accustomed to the feeling, the God started to move. A slow slide almost all the way out, then back in. Out, then in. Out, then in. The slide was dry and painful, but Pen heard the God spit and the way was eased. The God's pace increased, forcing Pen's breath out with every in. Maybe the God grew tired of the position. He raised up off Pen, then took him by the hips and pulled him to hands and knees. 

"Uh," Pen said on the next full thrust. "Uh - what - "

"There it is," said the God. "I'll have you begging for it by morning. After my satyrs have had their way, of course."

He hadn't expected pleasure to spark deep inside his belly. Little pulses of pleasure as the God moved, pulses turning solid as the God moved faster and faster, grunting with every thrust. 

"Sstop," gasped Pen. "Don't - no, I can't - "

"Do or do not, it makes not difference to me," replied the God. "but as it amuses me, do."

The God reached around and began to pull on Pen's dick. The contact was so unexpected, so delightful, that Pen came immediately, groaning and shaking from the head to toe, gut churning inside-outness of it. Weak and panting from his release, Pen fully expected the God to reach his pleasure too. 

He never had been much good at figuring out the motives of other people. Gods were even more chaotic.

To his utter shock, the God did not stop. The God continued to paw and pull, to thrust and bite, until Pen peaked again.

And again.

And again.

And then once more, because the God was a God and humans were their playthings.

The night turned insensible. Pen was aware of cries of passion all around. He looked up to find Julia sucking on a cockhead the size of a fig, come dribbling out of the corners of her mouth. Delia was screaming in the distance, her breasts bouncing as she rode one satyr, another behind her with his member up her ass. There was nothing Pen recognized in either woman's eyes, and finally he understood why women waited for the Dionysia every year. It was their time to be free. To be free of ritual and culture and demand what they wanted without censure or regret. To rejoice in themselves.

Maybe...maybe that was all right. Had not the God been right? Had He not had Pen begging for it by morning? 

Obviously Julia would never sleep with him again, why would she after this night. Perhaps the same was true of Pen, though. He had been awakened to something he had never thought was within himself...he would have to experiment. Quietly, of course. He was CEO of a Cadmus*Industries, he had a reputation to protect.

He had a year to figure it out.

A year before the next Dionysia.

 

_'They sit among the rocks, under the silvery pines'_

~ Dionysus, from _The Bacchae_ by Euripides


End file.
